The First Time Meme

[treks]

THE ❝FIRST TIME❞ MEME

RULES!  ♥ Leave a comment with your character's name and fandom. ♥ When replying, RNG for a number between 1 and 7. The number you get corresponds with the kind of "first time" sex you're having ♥ Go from there! The sky's the limit.

THE LIST!  01] Romantic | You waited and waited and waited for the right moment to take this final step with your partner, and it really paid off; neither of you can imagine this night (or day!) to be any better than it is right now.  02] The Only Time | You know somewhere in your heart that you won't be getting a second chance for this. The relationship is forbidden, or they're moving away, or you're moving away, or something is tearing this relationship apart, and that may be the last thing you want. 03] Set-Up | ... Oh. Well. Someone nudged you and this other person together, the one that you may have loved or hated or been friends with your entire life. It isn't completely by choice, but it doesn't sound like that bad of an idea... Or maybe it does. Who knows? 04] Experience Difference | One of you knows exactly what to do, and the other doesn't! Maybe they're just a natural at this kind of thing... or maybe there's a thing or two they haven't told you yet. 05] Hesitant | One (or both) of you aren't quite sure if you're ready for this next big step... at the same time, you want this to happen, though the thought makes butterflies flutter around in the pit of your stomach. 06] Awkward | It feels like everything that can go wrong does go wrong. Relax? You can't relax! This is s-s-s-s-sex-- oh, boy, there's another mistake. 07] Wildcard | This is the "other" option. Choose any of the above or create your own! [credit goes to connikebox]

Comments

[whatyoulike]

[In fact, the very first time she'd texted him that, it really had just been an invitation to dinner. It was only later that she decided to turn it into a half-joking come-on with more and more outrageous statements preceding it. And eventually it reached the point where it wasn't a joke at all.]

It took you long enough to catch on.

[Her tone is mild, not rising to the bait yet. Come on, Sherlock. "I'm not hungry. Let's have dinner." She knows how obvious that was.]

[on_your_nerves]

You were...persistent.

[His breathing isn't as calm as it could be. For someone who's supposedly trying to fall asleep, he seems more agitated--or excited--then someone who's winding down for the night.]

[whatyoulike]

It paid off.

[Whether she's referring to Karachi or something else is unclear. Still watching him from her position on her side, she pays special attention to the rise and fall of his chest. Uneven. Looks like a case of "I'm not sleepy, let's go to bed" from where she's sitting.

The hand that was playing with the comforter creeps over to touch the sleeve of his dressing gown.]

[on_your_nerves]

[He's quiet as she fiddles with his sleeve, eyes still closed, seemingly ignoring it.]

[At first.]

[Then, even though he keeps his eyes closed, his hand reaches out and his fingertips brush against hers.]

[whatyoulike]

[First contact, not counting her earlier attempts to distract. He was ignoring her then. Tolerating. This is a reaction, an actual response, and somehow it's made all the more significant by how fleeting it is. Internally she adds a captured pawn to her side of the board.

Her hand stills momentarily, fingers poised just above the fabric, then moves to rest on top of his.]

[on_your_nerves]

[Sherlock's eyes stay closed for a little while, and then he seems to come to some sort of decision and they flutter open. He turns on his side, still grasping her hand between them and looks at her, just lays there really looking at her.]

[whatyoulike]

[She doesn't blink, doesn't move except to stroke the back of his hand with her thumb.

Wisps of hair are coming loose from her elaborate up-do as a result of laying against the pillow, and her dress is still bunched up a good 4 or 5 inches higher than the actual hemline. It's a casual sort of disarray, born of comfort. She looks perfectly at home reclining there on her side.

Of course, she's not quite as calm as she looks. Her pulse sped up when he turned to look at her, and her mind is racing even faster as she tries to determine his intentions.]

[on_your_nerves]

[Now his other hand moves to her face, and the backs of his fingers brush gently against her cheek. It's a furtive gesture, almost shy. His fingers move to gently brush at those loose wisps of hair.]

[His actions might not be betraying what his intentions are, but she can probably see it in his eyes.]

[whatyoulike]

[There are things she'd like to do to him that aren't nearly so gentle, but the way he hesitates is strangely endearing and she decides to see how this plays out. She can be delicate when the occasion calls for it or, more rarely, the mood strikes. This might be a bit of both.

She wonders if moving closer will spook him and does it anyway.]

[on_your_nerves]

[It doesn't, but it does present an awkward situation in that their arms are crammed between them, and he's not sure what to do about it. It's not as if he's ever lounged around with someone else in the same bed before.]

[whatyoulike]

[Irene has significantly more knowledge regarding the logistics of these things, so, upon realizing Sherlock isn't going to do anything, she pulls on his hand to drape his arm over her waist. Her own arm slips around him in a similar fashion.

There. All better.]

[on_your_nerves]

Miss Adler...

[His hand is there for only a moment, just a moment, before he rolls over half on top of her, pressing an awkward kiss to her lips. When he speaks again, it's into her mouth.]

I think I'm hungry.

[whatyoulike]

[That actually takes her by surprise and, as it's happening, she only has time for a soft 'ah.'

His announcement, moreso than the kiss itself, sends a tingle through her body and she tilts her head just an inch or so for space to reply,] Good.

[Then she's pressing her lips back to his, urging him to follow along.]

[on_your_nerves]

[There's another kiss, a little less awkward this time and then just as suddenly as he was there, he rolls away to sit up propped up on his pillows on his side of the bed, with his arms folded over his chest, fingers clasped together.]

I know an excellent all-night Indian takeaway.

[Apparently, he has gotten in his head to be a tease. Whoever could he be following in example?]

[whatyoulike]

[She sits up rather sharply, a brief flash of annoyance crossing her features, and then, with forced casualness, leans back on her elbows. The game continues, but that's a point for him.]

I'm not in the mood. Thai?

[on_your_nerves]

Also not in the mood.

[Sherlock looks up at the ceiling and quirks his mouth thoughtfully.]

John left ice cream in the freezer. Fudge ripple.

[Next to the fungal stock cultures.]

[whatyoulike]

[Don't think she didn't notice that placement during her earlier snooping around. Though the ice cream at least had a lid on, so she's not going to raise a fuss about it. Besides, it gives her ideas.]

I suppose we can start with dessert.

[Already moving to get out of bed.]

[on_your_nerves]

[He kicks his long legs over the side of the bed and stalks out of his room, his dressing gown flaring behind him much like his coat often does when he's trying to be dramatic. Sherlock heads for the kitchen without looking to see if she's following, and gets out the ice cream, ripping off the note from John telling Sherlock to keep his mitts off it since he bought it for himself (John really should know better by now). Fortunately, there are clean spoons and bowls, though there's not really any room for them to sit at the table.]

[whatyoulike]

[After sliding over the side she takes a moment to straighten her dress and check her reflection in the window. Lipstick smudged a bit. She wipes away the smear and decides to forgo refreshing it since, if nothing else, she is about to eat.

Then she pads quietly into the kitchen and stands with one hip leaning against the counter.]

Two scoops for me.

[on_your_nerves]

[Sherlock has no idea that he has a bit of her lipstick smudged on his own lips, and his hair is sticking up a bit and slightly mussed from laying down in bed. It's the sort of thing some would find endearing.]

[He doles out the ice cream--two scoops for each of them--puts the ice cream away, and hands her a bowl of it with the spoon sticking out of it.]

[whatyoulike]

[It feels almost like they're playing at being a couple and the thought makes her press her lips into a thin line to keep from laughing aloud. The roles are so far removed from who they are.

She carves out the first spoonful carefully and puts it in her mouth, allowing it to melt against her tongue. Although she enjoys ice cream, it's not one of her more frequent indulgences. The last time she'd eaten any, she was alone in a hotel in Nice experiencing one of her melancholy moods. This is altogether more pleasant.

After licking a dab of chocolate that had escaped her from the back of the spoon, she replaces it in the bowl.]

Let's eat in bed. [then, with an air of mischief] ...Unless you're fussy about sheets, in which case, let's eat in John's bed.

[on_your_nerves]

[It really is almost comical at this point, how unlike themselves they're acting, how normal they're pretending to be, but it's a bit difficult to end the game when neither side will concede.]

[As for eating in John's bed, John would kill him. John would murder him.]

[But he doesn't want to get ice cream on his sheets, either...]

[But John would murder him.]

[But those are 1020 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets in Sherlock's bed, and he never eats in bed specifically because he doesn't want to mess his bed up. Those are absolutely pristine 1020-count Egyptian cotton sheets...]

[No no. John would murder him--and after all the cases Sherlock's taken him along on, by now he's possibly learned enough to hide the body and avoid getting caught.]

My bed will do.

[And off he stalks back to his room with his ice cream, dressing gown flaring dramatically again, and he hops back into bed on his side, leaning back against his pillows with his legs sprawled out and crossed, to eat his ice cream.]

[He still has no idea about the lipstick smudge. Or the mussy hair.]

[whatyoulike]

[He may or may not have caught her smirk before turning away — as is often the case, she was alluding to more than just ice cream. The good Dr. Watson would murder him indeed.

Sauntering just a few steps behind, she climbs into bed beside him and curls her legs under herself. It's impossible to look at him without noticing the lipstick. To her, it's as bright as a neon sign. Her mark on him. Part of her wants to wait and see if he ever notices—from the way her gaze keeps flicking to his lips, if nothing else—but ultimately she decides to do something about the distraction.]

You have a little something. Just there. [Here, let her get that. She licks a finger and leans over to wipe away the smudge.]

[on_your_nerves]

[Sherlock freezes in place, staring at her, his spoon halfway between his bowl and his mouth as she wipes the smudge away. It's very much like the deer-in-headlights look he'd had when they first met, when she'd walked in to meet him wearing nothing at all.]

[whatyoulike]

[Oh, she likes him speechless. One carefully plucked brow arches in response.]

...mm, what? Shall I put it back?